Kisses
by L3ftOfCent3r
Summary: In one day, she learned that fairy-tales were real, she saw a man turn to wood, she killed a dragon, and she saved her son with "truelove's kiss". Sleep didn't come easy that night for Emma Swan, but once it did—she was in for a night of vivid dreams.


Emma watched Henry sleep as she laid beside him on her bed. His face was peaceful and still, just like it had been while he was unconscious in the hospital. Reminders like _that_, made it all the more difficult for Emma to fall asleep. She was afraid to take her eyes off of Henry. She was afraid of losing him—like she almost did lose him. Dragons existed, witches made curses, and people could turn to wood right before your eyes! Emma wasn't sure that she'd ever be able to close _hers_ again!

She examined her sons face, noting the way his brown hair laid across his forehead and then fell onto his shut eyelids. She marveled at the fact that something as simple as her "kiss" had saved him. Thoughts like _that_, made it a little easier to fall asleep. Her eyelids grew heavy then, and sleep quietly crept over her, tugging her into the peace that came with slumber. When she finally gave in, her thoughts faded away and she drifted off into a deep, heavy sleep—the kind of sleep that tends to produce vivid dreams...

.

The loud sound of croaking and screeching wrenched Emma from her sleep. She threw back her bed sheets and stomped-over to the open window to search for the racket. A frog was sitting there on her windowsill, croaking into the night.

"Shoo!" Emma shouted before pursing her lips and blowing air at the offending frog.

The frog stopped croaking as he stumbled back at the force of the air. He frowned at her, then—it was a very human-looking frown.

"Hey. Princess. How 'bout bringing them lips a little closer, huh?"

Emma's eyes widened and she gulped as she stared at the talking frog. Moments passed, and still, the strangeness of seeing such a creature shocked her. The frog rolled his eyes and waved her off with a webbed-foot.

"Forget it," he said, "Your not supposed to kiss me, anyway."

Emma's eyebrows lowered at his words, and in spite of the fact that she was too practical to talk to frogs, she asked:

"Who am I supposed to kiss, then?"

The frog made a another too-human expression.

"Don't you remember?" he asked, "Your friend at the Bed and Breakfast? Ya know, the wooden one?"

Emma's eyes widened and her lips parted. _August!_

"If I kiss him, he'll become real again?"

The frog shook his head at her ignorance.

"Duh!" the frog croaked, "A kiss from a Princess can a fix a lot of things. Believe me. I know."

With that, the frog jumped from the windowsill and disappeared into the bushes below. Emma didn't waste another second. She walked out of her bedroom, wearing only a tank top and a pair of little shorts. And then, as if she had magically, teleported across town—she found herself inside of the Bed and Breakfast. The door into August's room was unlocked, and as she entered she found him laying right where she had left him. August looked like a wooden mannequin that someone had comically laid-out on a bed and then covered with a sheet.

"August," she whispered his name as she sat down on the mattress beside him, "I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

Her finger tips carefully touched the side of his carved face as she leaned over him, preparing herself for the kiss. _Wasn't it supposedly "truelove's kiss" that preformed miracles?_ Emma shrugged it off as she pressed her lips to his wooden ones, feeling the rough, hard grain against her mouth. She shut her eyes, for effect, hoping that it might, at least, add some true-ness to a kiss that definitely wasn't truelove—or love at all, really. Something happened then! Emma's eyes opened as the lips underneath her own fleshed-out, becoming soft and warm. August's mouth parted as he took-in a deep breath, and Emma pulled-back in awe.

"It actually worked!" she exclaimed, truly surprised that it had.

August opened his eyes and he examined the blonde woman who usually always wore a suspicious expression on her face, but now, she wasn't.

"Looks like you're finally a believer." he said as he sat up on the mattress and smiled at her.

"I am," she confessed, "I—"

His hand reached-out and slid behind her neck, pulling her gently towards him so that he could kiss her.

"Thanks for believing," he said before pulling her lips against his own.

It was a kiss that was only meant to last for a moment—a sort of "thank you" kiss—but Emma got lost in it. Her lips moved against his, her hands fisted the sheets at his sides, and she leaned her body into his until he fell back on to the bed. It felt like a long fall—a fall that sent her to another time and place. With her eyes still closed, Emma kissed him, and the warm hand at the back of her neck became urgent and rougher, pulling her against him as his other hand explored her body. The sensation of his heated touch against her skin sent tingles throughout her and she opened her mouth with a low moan. His tongue slipped inside, seeking to taste her as his hands firmly clung to her hip, pulling her tightly against him. His touch was determined and his kiss was demanding. Emma wouldn't have expected _this_ from August, but still—she liked it. She un-fisted her hands from the sheets and slid them up his chest as her mouth and her tongue moved with his. Her hands slid over waist-pockets and buttons, and then strangely, over a second layer of clothing with more buttons. Emma's hand froze then, as her fingertips felt the soft material of a scarf around his neck. Fear struck at her heart and Emma's eyes flew open to find a pair of devious blue ones staring back at her.

"Mmm," he hummed as his full lips curved-up into a smirk, "You taste sweeter than tea, Emma."

His hands were still clinging to her as she stared wide-eyed at the mad man who had held her at gun point.

"The Mad Hatter." she breathed as she found herself too shocked to move.

Jefferson smiled.

"Don't worry, Emma," his voice was smooth and dark as his hand slowly trailed up her side, "It's just your imagination. Don't you remember? I'm _only_ a storybook character."

He pulled her against him then, and his lips came down on hers for a hungry kiss, seeking to taste the sweetness of her mouth. She fought against him until he rolled them over, pinning her body underneath his own. His hot hand slipped underneath her tank top, sending shivers down her spine as he touched her. Her cares melted away then, and her mouth yielded to his.

"That's it, Emma," he whispered into her ear and his breath teasingly tickled at her skin, "Relax. Lose yourself in it. You know you want to."

.

Emma gasped—it was loud and partially a scream. She sprung up in her bed with her heart racing and her senses firing on all cylinders.

_It was a dream. _She told herself. _Just a crazy ass dream._

Emma closed her eyes and rubbed at her face with her hands, trying to erase the images from her mind. Suddenly, the sound of quick footfalls came rushing towards her.

"Emma?" Henry sounded worried as he ran into the room, " Are you okay?"

Emma took a deep breath and then nodded.

"Yeah," she replied, "Just a bad dream."

Henry sat down on the edge of the bed as he looked up at his birth-mother with a sort-of grimace on his face.

"I had a bad dream too," he confessed, "I dreamed that I didn't wake up from eating that apple turnover. It was pretty scary."

Emma's arms reached out and grabbed Henry by the shoulders so she could pull him into a hug. The hug was partly to soothe him and partly to soothe herself. Her dream clung on to her—kisses and touches and tastes—affecting her as if it had actually happened. Emma hugged Henry because she needed something real to counterbalance it.

"So," Henry began as he pulled away and looked up at her with curious eyes, "What was _your_ dream about?"


End file.
